


Harmonious Tongues

by hgdoghouse



Category: The Professionals
Genre: First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-25
Updated: 2011-11-25
Packaged: 2017-10-26 12:50:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/283328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hgdoghouse/pseuds/hgdoghouse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Please note there is a moment which may be triggery for some as it borders on non-con.</p><p>Doyle wants Bodie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Harmonious Tongues

HARMONIOUS TONGUES  
by HG

One of Doyle's chief characteristics had always been his single-mindedness of purpose, both on and off the job. So when one, otherwise unremarkable, morning he realised he wanted the man busy driving them both to work he listened only to the urgent demands of his body, planning his campaign to have Bodie without a thought to the consequences. It was an odd omission for one who had always possessed a tendency to worry a potential problem into exhaustion but not totally without precedent, Doyle as capable of self-deception as the next man.

Having begun to watch Bodie Doyle found he could not stop, the pleasure sweet and addictive as he was arrested by tiny, hitherto taken for granted details. Mentally removing the jacket, jumper and cords Bodie was wearing, the body beneath them was familiar yet strange to him now, Doyle alight with the need to see Bodie anew, through the eyes of a lover.

Subtly aware of the change in the atmosphere inside the car, Bodie glanced across at his seemingly deaf partner. Meeting eyes brilliant with sexual heat Bodie's voice trailed away. Doyle did not even notice.

Clearing his throat Bodie concentrated on the traffic, a little unnerved without quite knowing why and wishing that hypnotic stare would move away from himself.

It did not.

Beginning to fidget, Bodie wound down the car window; heat continued to prickle along his skin despite the damp trails of November air eddying into the car.

Fleeting roused from his preoccupation with his partner's inherently desirable body by their arrival in the CI5 car park, Doyle left the car only after some impatient prompting. Oblivious to the cold, he stood watching the deft hands locking the door before Bodie rammed them into his jacket pockets.

Bodie's tart-voiced query of was he ready elicited no more than a nod, it having dawned on Doyle that Bodie as a potential bedmate would be a very different proposition from the Bodie who was his best mate and working partner: a Bodie to be re-studied and learnt afresh, lingered over.

Oh, yeah.

Wondering only at his blindness until now, Doyle's awareness of outside stimuli was non-existent, his entire attention focussed on the sleek, understated sensuality of the man in front of him. Following Bodie through the undistinguished backdoor, his hungry gaze feasting on the strength of thigh and contour of buttock, the disconcertingly blue eyes and matching stubble, Doyle was deaf to his partner's inconsequential speculations on what delights Cowley would have in store for them, busy speculating instead on how Bodie's mouth would feel beneath his own, parting for him; Bodie beneath him - above him, too, if he knew his Bodie; that mouth going down on him; Bodie aroused, skin flushed and rosy, cock... He wondered what Bodie would taste like.

Quite what he was proposing sank in, serving only to fuel the flames. Against the piercing clarity of his need all else was confusion, irrelevant.

Except, pointed out the cold voice of sanity, for the fact he had no idea how to tempt Bodie into his bed - or how he could slide into Bodie's. Not that he was a rigid thinker, the floor would be fine. But how to get him there?

Bodie was the silver-tongue of the team, Doyle aware he was too inclined to speak first and think ten minutes later. For someone who didn't talk that much, and then only to the point - or to drive him crazy - Bodie was a great one for words; their rhythms; the cadence of his voice at interrogations, conning the Cow, himself, his current bird and anyone else stupid enough to let him get away with it

'Here, Bodie, forget your date with Michelle, d'you fancy having it away with me tonight, instead?'

Very subtle. Sway anyone that would.

Trouble was, it might have to come to that. Doyle couldn't imagine all his usual approaches working. Besides, Bodie had seen or heard most of them, politely amazed at his success rate even while the suave sod offered to give him lessons.

Maybe he should have taken Bodie up on that offer. He needed to know what turned Bodie on, what Bodie needed, because he wanted him - in his bed, or anywhere else he could get him.

It occurred to Doyle that it was a pity he only had theoretical knowledge of what to do if - when - he got Bodie there. Still, somehow he couldn't see that being an insurmountable problem.

Not at all.

He'd never watched another human being walk and talk and breath and felt like this: pure lust shot through with a strange, yearning ache he refused to put a name to. Not even for Ann, whom he had wanted to marry.

Oh, no. Not Bodie. Please.

It needn't mean anything, Doyle tried to convince himself. Bodie was good company, always had been; his other half at work and at play. Okay, fine. That didn't mean he was in -

Frightened, exulted and as turned on as hell, Doyle drifted up the stairs behind his partner. Resisting the urge to reach out, he tucked his unwary hands into his jacket pockets, proud of his self-restraint.

Prepare the ground first, he reminded himself with a brief flash of sanity. No point ending up in traction before you have to.

Bumping into a stationary Bodie, who was staring at him with a trace of anxiety now, Doyle offered a mumbled apology, forcing himself to step away from that glorious heat and strength and smell... It wasn't even aftershave, just soap and Bodie, he realised incredulously.

Reassured, but still puzzled, Bodie nodded, made a facetious comment, and set off again.

Nah, decided Doyle affectionately, shadowing him. Whatever else happened between Bodie and himself, ending up in traction wasn't something he had to worry about. Not with Bodie.

That settled to his satisfaction, Doyle concentrated on essentials; the easy stride of the man next to him, Bodie's face creased in amusement at a comment from a passing agent, Doyle did not notice who it was.

In fact Doyle noticed very little for the remainder of the day, moving through what would have been tedious hours of duty - if he had noticed them - in a state of steaming sexual expectancy and mental confusion, only peripherally aware of Bodie's puzzled glances, the amused asides of others who tried to gain his attention and Cowley's acid disapproval.

 

Automatically covering for his dozy other half, beginning to worry what could have brought about the change in the bright, disgustingly alert Ray Doyle he had collected that morning, Bodie, who had learnt to subordinate his own fantasies some time since, finally discerned the root cause of his partner's abstraction.

She must be a real cracker to leave Ray this steamed up the morning after, he decided, unable to remember seeing Doyle this lit up for a long, long time. And when Ray's balls started to do this thinking..

Totally distracted, Bodie walked slap into Anson, knocking the other man's beaker of coffee flying. Amidst jeers and complaints and the unsettling knot of anxiety deep in his belly, Bodie made good his escape, seeking refuge in the computer room. Settling himself in front of a blank VDU, his drawn-browed scowl warning others to give him a wide berth, Bodie keyed in the computer, puzzling over who this mysterious bird could be.

She must be special because Ray had puttered off to Archives without a murmur of rebellion or complaint. It was odd though, because Ray hadn't mentioned having a date last night and he'd been coherent enough - if obscenely verbose - when he'd collected him this morning. Wasn't his fault he'd run out of food; only natural to expect your partner to feed you, Bodie told himself.

"And what exactly do you imagine you're doing?" demanded a familiar voice.

Bodie jumped like a guilty school-boy. "Nothing - checking on Hever's contacts, sir," he amended glibly, aware that an admission of inactivity was an invitation to be given a task of monumental tedium while things were this quiet.

Where have all the terrorists gone? he wondered wistfully.

"Really?" Cowley pointed his spectacles in the direction of the screen and Bodie turned back to find the blue-prints of some obscure piece of equipment glowing greenly at him. "When will you learn these terminals aren't toys for your amusement," added the Scot irritably, reaching over Bodie's shoulder. The screen became blank again. "Do you know how much it costs to - ?"

Bodie cut out the ensuing lecture so successfully he almost missed the moment when he was dismissed, belatedly moving, as he had been ordered, to Archives and his industrious other half.

It came as no surprise to find Archives was deserted except for Doyle, who was sitting staring into space with a soft, silly grin on his face: not at all like himself.

Relaxing, Bodie shook his head, realising he didn't have to worry about the current object of Doyle's lust. She might even prove to be the stuff of which double dates were made. While they could be a double-edged sword, they were the closest he was likely to get to paradise.

Paradise... Oh, my son you've got it bad, he admitted ruefully. Who would've thought the day would come when he'd look at Ray Doyle and -

It was time, Bodie decided briskly, to announce himself.

"Hallo, mate. The Cow banished me down here. Must've thought you were lonely. Not working too hard, I hope ?"

Doyle's head turned, a blinding smile licking headily around an unsuspecting Bodie. "Oh, no," he said. "You?"

Bodie gave an involuntary grin, finding this vacant, sweet-smiling creature infinitely desirable, even if he bore only a slight resemblance to Ray Doyle he knew and loved best. "No," he said, adding nonchalantly: "You doing anything tonight?"

"Hope so. That is - " Belatedly Doyle's brain caught up with his errant tongue; he avoided meeting the blue eyes which always saw more than he wanted them to, " - I wondered. How do you fancy dinner at my place? The way things are going we'll be off early and I'm in the mood to cook. Pick a meal - not chips," he added firmly, not yet that besotted.

Unable to equate that prosaic offer with the expression Doyle had been wearing all day, equally Bodie was unable to resist, mentally jettisoning Michelle with only a faint pang. "Great. I'll leave the menu to you, mate - I'm easy."

Leaving Archives a few minutes later, Bodie was still wondering if Doyle could really have mumbled, "Promise ?" and if so, why. Then, shrugging wishful thinking aside, he concentrated on planning a strategy that would turn Doyle back to the path of righteousness and eventually steer him into his bed.

 

 

Usually Doyle found pottering round in the kitchen relaxing: cooking for Bodie had always been a rewarding task insofar as Bodie ate everything on his own plate - not to mention anything he could filch from Doyle's. Tonight the therapy wasn't working. Grimly, Doyle persevered, hoping Bodie would never stop to work out what he had spent on the ingredients.

The euphoric glow which had enveloped him all day had evaporated the moment he reached his flat. He had had much too much time to think since then, his grand seduction plans in ruins. It irritated Doyle to realise , after the event, the care with which he had dressed for the evening; not only showered and changed but shaved and aftershaved as well. To add insult to injury, he was nervous.

You weren't this bad on your first date, for chrissake, he reminded himself, and this was hardly a date.

His hand absently brushing the sensuous pile of his brown velvet jeans, Doyle gave a grimace of disgust and stalked off to his bedroom, hoicking out his oldest pair of jeans and a tee shirt he wore only when he was working on the bike.

Thus attired, he flicked another irritable glance at his watch. Where the fuck was Bodie?

As if on cue the door bell rang. Doyle made a point of hurrying to open it but he felt his jaw sag when he finally stepped back to admit his partner. Bodie, he recognised, swallowing hard, looked like a walking wet dream - in nothing more exotic than cream cords, a crimson shirt and the leather jacket he'd seen him wearing for the last six months.

"You're late," he snapped, by way of a greeting.

"Hadn't realised you'd set a deadline," said Bodie, his smile fading a little. "Can I come in, or have you changed your mind?"

"You may as well," replied Doyle ungraciously, unable to think of a single thing to add. Christ, he looked good - well, fuckable anyway.

Bodie was inhaling. "Something smells wonderful and I don't think it's dinner." He gave an indulgent grin. "Only you could wear aftershave that expensive with jeans that old - or were you getting ready to change?" He prodded an unmistakable portion of Doyle that was visible through a frayed tear just below his left buttock; thanks to the action of his finger a little more of Doyle came into view.

Not daring to turn, unable to move for a moment, Doyle counted to three: it didn't help the situation.

"Thought you deserved my best outfit," he mumbled at last, aware that he had lost any control of this evening already. "Want a drink?" Without waiting for Bodie's reply he escaped into the kitchen, unaware of the hungry dark gaze which followed him every inch of the way.

Shouldn't have come round tonight, Bodie told himself, miserably aware of his discomfort within cords that offered precious little concealment and the fact he would have been less turned on if Doyle had been bollock naked. Those bloody jeans should be banned, so tight they accentuated every curve of what Bodie had long since conceded was the most delectable arse he had ever seen, the denim drawn tautly into the cleft between the small mounds, clinging lovingly to undercheek and the long line of the thigh.

You are not, he told himself, going to watch him walk back in here.

Switching on the television, he sank on to the low settee. He was concentrating on the screen so wholeheartedly that the next time he looked up it was to find his nose only inches from Doyle's crotch and what was nestling there so sweetly.

"D'you want to watch that," Doyle jerked a disparaging thumb in the direction of the screen, "or eat?"

Damn nearly salivating, Bodie glared upwards. "Look, if you'd rather I left, just say so."

Sinking down on his haunches in front of him, Doyle pulled a wry face. "I know. 'M sorry, mate. Would you rather 'ave it on a tray and carry on watching... What are you watching ?" Swivelling round, he stared at the screen and gave a choke of laughter. "You want to watch _The Wild Geese..._?"

"At least I'm quieter than you when the cop shows come on," retorted Bodie with dignity. "You bloody nearly smashed my set when we were watching _The Sweeney_."

"Yeah, yeah. Come and eat before it burns, the power must be up high or something," added Doyle vaguely, with no idea of what he was saying, dry-mouthed and damp-palmed with lust.

Bodie never knew what it was they ate. He was prepared to bet the meal had been as good as it smelt but he couldn't vouch for it. While his plate was empty he had little idea of what he had eaten, conscious only of the noise of cutlery against earthenware, conversation at a minimum and awkward as it had never been between them before.

Maybe he had salivated? Maybe Doyle was trying to work up to breaking some kind of bad news - he looked tense enough, pushing the food around his plate and drinking far more than he normally did? Maybe he was ill? Getting married? Leaving CI5...

Bodie drained his glass of wine, poured another and drank it down like water, subtle aroma and delicate flavour poured over heedless taste buds.

"What is it, mate?" he asked roughly.

Doyle looked up abruptly; his face, shadow-lit by the muted light hanging above him, looked strained. "Sorry, I was thinking. He abandoned any pretence of eating.

"What about?"

"Us. Come to bed with me, Bodie."

It wasn't until he heard his own voice that Doyle realised what he had just blurted out, seeing disbelief, fleeting anger and something else he could not put a name to on Bodie's face before it was wiped clean of all expression. "I meant - "

"I heard you. Just wanted to make sure I understand you. You want me to go to bed with you -for sex?"

Untypically embarrassed at that bald - if realistic - summary, Doyle hedged. "Well, I wouldn't put it quite like - "

"Cut the crap, Ray. Do you want to fuck or not?"

Pinned by those blue eyes, Doyle nodded.

"OK," said Bodie cooly. Then he smiled. "When did you know you wanted me, Ray?"

Hid sense of misgiving lulled by that soft-voiced query, seduced by that smile, Doyle opted or the truth and nothing but the truth sohelphimgod. "This morning. Bodie, I - "

"So long? It was a lovely meal, too. Lots of restaurants couldn't have matched that. I wondered why you were wasting it on me."

"What ?" Leaning forwards, Doyle held out his hand but Bodie was already on his feet, staring down at him.

"Well come on then, night's still young but it would be a shame to waste any of it." His hot, heavy-lidded gaze stripped Doyle where he sat. "Very nice, sunshine."

His body reacting to no more than that velvety purr Doyle found himself smiling at a broad back, Bodie already heading for the bedroom; his shirt unfastened, the skin of his shoulders smoothly erotic against the rich crimson of the silk sliding away. The evening not turning out quite as he had anticipated, Doyle turned after him.

Naked first, Bodie turned, studying the man opposite him, his eyes travelling from the disordered hair to the thin, bare feet; the scant-fleshed collar bones, thrust of rib and pucker of nipples clearly evident beneath the cotton tee shirt, soft hair whisping over the v-neck and the tautly straining jeans. "Very nice," he repeated softly. Then he noticed the clothes Doyle had discarded earlier that evening: silk and velvet. "Were those going to be for my benefit?" he added.

Doyle followed the sweep of his hand. "Yeah," he agreed vaguely. "But I - "

" - knew you wouldn't need them," anticipated Bodie.

"Something like that," The ensuing silence didn't bother Doyle at all, captured by the sheer beauty of the man in front of him. He slid his hand down a firm-muscled forearm, just for the pleasure of it, his cock lifting.

"In a minute," said Bodie, evading his hands.

A few moments later Doyle found himself naked and sprawled across his bed, Bodie bent over him. His eyes slitted with anticipation, Doyle crooked his arm around the strong neck, seeking to draw Bodie down to him. "Nice," he murmured.

It was only when Bodie evaded his mouth and the hard hands held him down with more strength than was necessary - without seeming effort - that Doyle realised anything was wrong.

"Bodie ?"

"It's all right, mate. You can save on the flowery speeches, too. See, I'm cheaper than your usual date all round, if not quite so easy."

Staring up into the smiling, violent eyes Doyle was abruptly sober. His thirty-three years of life had been far from tranquil, threaded with violence from his earliest years. But he had never sought to employ that kind of violence in his bed and he didn't intend to start now. The only difficulty was that he wasn't accustomed to guarding himself from it in this situation, or to a bedmate whose strength easily equalled his own and whose determination exceeded his own at the moment. If this confrontation had taken place on the street, or his opponent been other than Bodie, Doyle would have crippled him; as it was, he couldn't bring himself to use his hard-won skills, or to draw on the will which had kept him alive for those same thirty-three years. His defeat was, therefore, inevitable.

Bruised and breathless and beginning to be afraid Doyle stared up, bewildered, in a brief moment of quiet. Then Bodie's hands were on him again, still with little tenderness in their touch but this time with a different intent, seeking out his quiescent flesh, discovering too well how to make him moan and writhe until all thought was centred in the demands of his groin.

His head threshing from side to side, his hands curled into fists, Doyle, mindless, could do little to stop it happening; the initiative stripped from him, he was bent to Bodie's pleasure. He came to know that arrogant mouth from neck to knee, his body bearing the marks left by nipping teeth and the too skilled hands which learnt his every pleasure spot, casually manipulated him and stopped too soon. Having been fettered at first by no more than pride and disbelief, Doyle was finally bound by a body screaming for a release that was refused him time after time.

He fought Bodie then, without even knowing he did so, with an uncoordinated desperation that was easily defeated, the heady scent of Bodie filling his senses, each electric brush and press of flesh making him quiver. His arms outstretched above him, the solid weight of Bodie perfectly balanced on him denying him any leverage, Doyle conceded defeat, opening his eyes at last.

While the violence remained, the smile was gone, replaced with a determined hunger.

"No," he said hoarsely, reading Bodie's intent. "No!" He fought in earnest then against the fantasy which had held him in thrall all day, and all the untold days before.

Bodie won that battle too, as he had always known he would, his anger a dark, deadly thing. "But I thought you were going to let me, Ray... my good conduct prize. I've just made it easy for you to let it happen. Turn over, I'm going to have you."

"Go fuck your - "

Despite all that had just taken place between them, Bodie's blow took Doyle completely by surprise, swinging his face into the pillow, springing tears to his eyes, one cheek flaming from the impact of that hard palm.

"Not tonight. Tonight I have you. Turn over, Ray." The too calm, implacable voice was one Doyle did not recognise.

Staring up into the hard, beautiful face of a stranger, he met those darkened eyes and knew he had only two options - to kill Bodie or to submit. So far neither of them had taken any physical hurt, save for the odd bruise and... His eyes assessed the vulnerable points, cataloguing the moves, countermoves; he closed his eyes again. He could no more kill Bodie than fly.

"All right," he said dully, not believing this, any of it, "but you'll have to get off me first."

Expecting only some devastating attack, distantly aware that anger had taken him onto unhallowed ground, Bodie watched him through wary eyes as he released the lighter man.

Doyle drew his arms down with a grimace, massaging a numb wrist - he'd have a bruise there tomorrow, he recognised. Ignoring Bodie he leant over the side of the bed, aware of the hard fingers clamped in the muscle of his shoulder, to retrieve a tube of lubricant from the bedside cabinet. Righting himself with ease, his face expressionless now, he tossed the tube to lie in front of the other man.

"I can't force you to use it of course," he said, his eyes dropping to the thrusting curve of Bodie's cock, watching it move with each breath the other man took, "but it'll make it easier on both of us." A moment later he rolled over onto his stomach, his smarting face buried in the pillow as he tried to relax.

Viewing the long, defenceless line of the spine and the tempting rise of the small, clenched buttocks that betrayed the fear Doyle would never admit to, Bodie felt his own body react, blood returning to his groin in a dizzying rush. Ray had made him so bloody angry and...

Christ, he wanted him. Could have him. But not now, not like this.

Sinking back onto the mattress, his hands moved to answer the urgent demands of his own body, his eyes on Doyle as he found the rhythm, his breath rasping in his throat.

Altered by the change in the quality of the silence and unable to bear the waiting any longer, Doyle turned, then rolled over. Relief vanished, Doyle aghast at the desperate misery he saw in his partner's face.

Bodie, whom he had been going to wine and dine and seduce into his bed; Bodie with that past he never spoke of, except in a way he knew would be disbelieved, hurting. So screwed up that he would sit there joylessly bringing himself off rather than admit his need.

Oh, christ.

Making an incoherent sound of protest Doyle was already reaching out, taking Bodie's hands in his. "Not like this, don't waste it... Not like this.

"Ray, I... need..." The words were bound out, Bodie too near the edge.

This time it was Doyle easing him down, sliding them together. "I know. 'S all right. Not alone, not when there's two of us. Make it sweet, eh? Ssh, no rush. Find the rhythm, lover. Thass it... Yeah." Then his breath caught as Bodie ground slick and clumsy against him, groaning; but the pressure was not enough.

Releasing him, Doyle slid wordlessly down the bed and bending, took that desperate urgency into his mouth, granted little time to learn as Bodie bucked and swore and arched into the warm, damp haven, moisture leaking from him. Fingers tenderly cupping the taut-drawn testicles, Doyle's tongue swirled over the tiny slit, taking Bodie deeper, finding the rhythm until he felt Bodie pulsing over his tongue without seeming end, Bodie's hands tight in his hair.

Doyle remained where he was for some time, slow to release the lax warmth of Bodie. Now he knew what Bodie tasted like. So...

He made a soft, unconscious sound and as Bodie moved to find him thrust down frantically, Bodie's thighs parting for him, giving him a hard-muscled channel, his hands gathering him close. There was no time for more, Doyle's teeth closing over a sweat-click shoulder as he came in a dizzying surge that made him shout out.

When finally they were quiet together and Bodie stirred, as if to withdraw, Doyle just held him tighter and licked the sweat from his temple, his palms smoothing the powerful muscles in the broad back until he heard Bodie sigh.

Tucking himself impossibly closer, Bodie fell asleep, looking very young as the normally wary, watchful lines on his face relaxed.

Still dazed, Doyle continued to hold him in a loose embrace, staring out into the darkness as he tried to see into the future.

In his fantasy it had all been so simple, so bloody simple. A rosy, lusty uncomplicated future with an ebullient Bodie. Tonight he had learnt it would not be that easy.

Much given to self-analysis, Doyle was less accustomed to considering the needs and hopes and fears of others; the potential for trouble - and heartache - in front of them scared him shitless. And he had thought he knew all there was to know about Bodie... well, maybe not all, but everything that was important. Could he cope with what he had learnt tonight, could he find the patience, would what he felt for Bodie be enough? Would Bodie even care?

Oh, yes. He'd learnt that much when Bodie hadn't ripped into him.

So...

Unconsciously tightening his hold a little, causing Bodie to mumble before he relaxed again, Doyle recognised that beneath his fear, and his sheer irritation that their rosy future wasn't going to happen without a lot of hard work, something else had stirred and he knew he would change nothing that had happened tonight.

On that realisation he fell a sleep himself, smiling faintly, stress lines easing away.

 

***

 

Without opening his eyes Bodie remembered who he was with - and why. His mouth gave a wry twitch.

Ray, poor bugger, must be wondering how he'd ended up with a nutter in his bed.

In that moment he became aware that the subject of his sympathy was not, as he had supposed, asleep.

"You're awake then," said Bodie, not opening his eyes, correctly suspecting that the first moves would be up to him. Shouldn't have fallen asleep, gave Ray too much time to think.

"Yeah. Been thinking."

Bodie's wry smile deepened, but he said only, "I'm not surprised. I didn't mean that to happen last night," he added truthfully, wondering how he could explain. It was far from being the first time he had lost his temper with Ray Doyle, just the first time he had allowed that temper to slip the leash. And that had been a mistake, had almost gone too irredeemably far, saved only by Doyle's unexpected, unlooked for submission. He didn't pretend to understand that. If he had been asked to predict what would have happened, he would have selected his wreath and chosen his obituary, under no illusions where Doyle's formidable temper was concerned.

Doyle gave a faint sigh. "Which part?"

Irritated, Bodie opened his eyes but found it still too dark to see much. This was more like the Ray Doyle he knew best. "You've forgotten already?" he asked dryly.

Doyle, who was plastered along every tense inch of him, was not deceived. "No. Are you sorry it happened?"

"Sweet jesus. You want an apology from me, is that it? OK, I'm sorry," said Bodie, drawing away, or trying to.

"Don't go. You needn't be, it wasn't all bad and even then... You let me see, you let me be there, trusted me that much. You don't often let me help you." Feeling the rigid muscles beneath his palm, Doyle stopped. "You don't want to talk about it?"

"No," agreed Bodie. The arms around him tightened and abruptly he wished he could see Doyle's expression: more to the point, he wished he knew what the hell Ray was on about. He waited, hoping for enlightenment.

"I would let you go but I'm afraid that if I do you won't come back. Want to say something first, all right ?"

"Do I have a choice?"

Flat-palmed, Doyle's hands stroked down his back again, this time they settled, disconcertingly, over his buttocks. Mute with longing, Bodie shivered. Seconds later he found himself alone in his half of the bed. Reaching out he found his fingers had settled unerringly over the lax, inert warmth of Doyle's penis but he couldn't bring himself to move them.

"You have a choice," said a soft voice into the silence. "I didn't know last night that you were afraid of sex with men," said Doyle, taking Bodie's breath away again for the second time in as many minutes - if for different reasons. "Probably with good cause. It makes sense of some of the nightmares I've 'heard you have over the years at any rate. But it needn't be like that, can be good. But I can see my offer didn't exactly help. I should've put it differently."

"Eh?" Bodie sat up at that. "You're not trying to tell me you've had the operation ?" There was a hint of amusement in his voice now, his thumb offering a brief caress before he made to move his hand. Long fingers curved around his, and when he did not resist, settled their joined hands on the mattress.

"No. I'm not explaining this very well," admitted Doyle, determined to rectify that. "See, I've never really understood why some blokes only fancy blokes. OK, so I know a lot of the theory about homosexual sex, quite a bit of the practice, too - usually the seamier side - but I've come across the odd, established couple. Knew a couple of blokes who'd been together over twenty years and are about as happy - or unhappy - as your average married couple..."

"So ?" prompted Bodie, hoping to discover what the fuck Doyle was rambling on about. But it sounded hopeful enough. Only Ray could take this long about it, he thought with resigned affection.

"So I still couldn't relate it to me. I mean, with women around, why bother? Then I looked at you yesterday and -

"Bowled you over, did I ?"

"Shut up," commanded Doyle mildly, "I'm trying' to explain. Now that might just have been flash in the pan lust but in that case why didn't it come as a surprise, can you tell me that?"

Bodie, who wanted to kiss him very much, solemnly shook his head, laughter bubbling deep inside him; he could be such a loveable little sod...

"I mean, continued Doyle doggedly, "I knew I liked you about five months after Cowley teamed us; was prepared to admit I was fond of you by the time you were stupid enough to get yourself knifed. What I didn't expect was to bloody well fall in love with you. Or if I did, I expected you' d bloody well feel the same way about me.

"I do," said Bodie placid now he had realised what it was Doyle had been telling him all this time. Not a very gracious declaration it was, true, but that didn't matter. What mattered was that Ray meant it.

"You what?"

"I do," repeated Bodie patiently. It was just light enough for him to see Doyle's jaw sag.

There was a lengthy silence during which time Bodie could almost hear Doyle's mind at work. Should've known he wouldn't just fall into my arms, he thought, resigned.

"But... but..."

"I can see it might have come as a bit of a shock, you never have been very good at seeing the obvious," sighed Bodie. "Last night was too much for me. It's been a long time for me, you see and while I was at the stage of wondering if I should buy you flowers and write sonnets to your eyes before we settled down, you calmly announced you fancied a quick fuck while you were in between birds."

"But it wasn't like - "

"I know that now, but I didn't last night. I'd spent the whole day worrying who the current object of your lust might be and wanting you something fierce, so when you finally invited me into your bed I lost my temper. I got a bit carried away," Bodie added with a trace of shame. "Don't want it to be like that with us - or only if we both fancy a change," he added, having had a pause for reflection.

Doyle was still staring at him.

"I thought that violent was the only way you could function with a bloke," he said slowly. "I thought that perhaps when you were a merc you hadn't had a chance to discover it could be..." Hearing Bodie make an incoherent sound his voice trailed away.

By then Bodie was laughing too hard to be able to take advantage of the fact. Curled tight, his scrunched face buried in Doyle s armpit, one arm thrown over him, he laughed himself silly, choking and gasping until a sharp slap on his rear sobered him a little.

"I didn't," said Doyle, acidly unamused, "find the idea that you'd been gang-banged very funny."

"No, mate. Oh, christ." Catching his breath Bodie rolled onto his back, grinning up at the ceiling, his hand absently trailing across Doyle's flat stomach ." I knew you had some funny ideas about mercs but - " He sniffed, wiped his nose on the back of his hand and willed himself not to start laughing again. "I hate to break it to you, sunshine, but we're two virgins together where this is concerned. The nearest I ever got to steaming sex when I was a merc was a wank in the bushes. Never thought about having it less than I did then. Even started to worry me after a while - in case it withered because I hadn't used it to do anything but piss with for so long. Hence the wank in the bushes. Was too bloody terrified most of the time," he added, remembering.

"That's the truth, Ray," he said, when Doyle stared at him with disbelief.

"But Krivas and the others... those nightmares..." Doyle began.

"Are a different story. You already know a bit of it, I'll tell you the rest sometime, if you want."

Doyle just nodded. "But when I touched your arse just now you shivered."

Bodie gave him an affectionate grin, brushing back a wayward brown curl from the worried looking face. "You turn me on, that's why."

Doyle shrugged that aside. "So you weren't... that is... the idea of sex with a bloke doesn't worry you ?"

"With you the idea actively appeals," replied Bodie, not without hope.

It was soon quashed, Doyle with other things on his mind.

"So the reason you went berserk last night was because I forgot to fuckin' well say please. Because I was so fuckin' nervous I just blurted it out?" He felt remarkably stupid for all the erroneous conclusions he had jumped to and livid for all the unnecessary worrying he had done.

"It wasn't like - "

"No? Then what the fuck was it? I spent half the bloody night wondering if we'd be able to make a go of it and now you blithely announce you were just feelin' a bit tetchy but that everything's fine. Well I've got news for you, mate - "

Rolling over, Bodie silenced him by the simple expedient of kissing him.

Doyle stiff-armed him away. "And you can pack that in. If you don't - "

"You mean you only want me if I'm hooked on violence, into rape and with enough hang ups to keep Kate Ross happy for years ?" asked Bodie, reasonably he thought.

Making an incoherent sound of fury, Doyle hit him.

Folding over, Bodie gasped and wheezed until he felt Doyle move. Opening a cautious eye he found Doyle glaring at him.

You can save the act," Doyle snapped, "I didn't hit you that hard."

"You didn't have to hit me at all," said Bodie plaintively. Realising he was unlikely to receive much sympathy, he leant over the edge of the divan to retrieve the bedding before settling back against the pillows. This, he thought happily, was nice.

"Oh, you're staying then ?" noted Doyle sarcastically.

"Knew I shouldn't have laughed," sighed Bodie. "Look..."What he had been told finally sank in. "You mean that last night even though you thought I was that screwed up you were still going to try and make it work ?"

Doyle just glared at him.

Capable hands framed the willful face, thumbs tenderly stroking the soft skin behind Doyle's ears, making him shiver.

"Oh, shit, Ray, what am I goin' to do with you, eh?" murmured Bodie, shaken from his normal camouflage of flippancy.

Doyle gave an irritable sniff "You could always try giving me a kiss," he suggested gruffly.

"Now what?" asked Bodie, some time later.

His rosy present more than enough for him, Doyle nibbled at a tiny pink nipple, feeling both it and Bodie's cock hardening against him. He paused in his ministrations to look up with an urchin grin.

"You really are a virgin, aren't you? Don't worry - it won't wither and I'll be gentle with you."

And when, some considerable time later Bodie turned, offering himself, it began that way; by the time it changed it didn't matter because they were both lit with the same need until Doyle arched over the broad back, pulsing deep in his lover's body while Bodie yelled out his name, spilling over Doyle's hand.

It was some time before either of them felt like sustaining any kind of coherent conversation. "Nice to know you remembered my name," Doyle said inconsequentially.

Bodie opened one eye.

"Well that was what you were yelling over and over," Doyle pointed out.

Bodie leant up on an unsteady elbow. "I'd like to hear you in similar circumstances," he said with a dignity that was marred by the somewhat fatuous grin he was wearing.

"Least I won't be yelling out your name," said Doyle, drawing him down again.

"Why not?"

"Speed you work, I'm not likely to have time for William Andrew Philip, am I?"

He was right, he never did get past William, although Bodie's pace had very little to do with his failure.

 

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> Completed August 1986


End file.
